“Good afternoon, Mr Spearman,” said Paul pleasantly. “Sorry to disturb you, but we would like to have a word with you.”
Tommy Spearman, without much hope that it would do any good, decided to try and bluff it out.
“I’m afraid you’re making a mistake, aren’t you?” he said, frowning a little. “My name is Chase — Garvin Chase — ”
“Is it, now?” said Paul gently. “I’m not a bit surprised to hear that, Tommy. If I’d called on you a month ago it would probably have been something else. Where do you get all these names from — the telephone directory?”
Mr Spearman’s frown deepened.
“I assure you that you’re making a mistake,” he said with quiet dignity. “I can prove to you — ”
“You can prove anything to me except that you’re not Tommy Spearman,” broke in the detective smoothly. “It’s no good bluffing, I know you far too well. You’ve got a bayonet wound under your right shoulder-blade, and two shrapnel scars on your thigh.”
Mr Spearman accepted his defeat gracefully and shrugged his shoulders.
“You win, Rivington,” he said with a wry smile, “but I don’t know what you’ve come up for. You’ve got nothing on me.”
“That remains to be seen,” answered Paul. “We’ve reason to believe that you were connected with the robbery at the Mammoth Pictures Studios and the murder of Perry Lamont.”
“What robbery?” demanded Mr Spearman quickly. “I’ve heard of the murder, of course — everybody within a radius of ten miles has talked about nothing else — but I didn’t know there was a robbery.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t,” said Paul with a smile. “Very clever, Tommy. Well, there was a robbery.”
“I’m afraid you’ve come after the wrong fox, Rivington,” said Mr Spearman. “I had nothing to do with that business — either robbery or murder. Anyhow, I thought you’d got the fellow who killed Lamont all safely locked up.”
“You shouldn’t think so much, Tommy,” said Paul. “We’re not satisfied that Rennit did kill Lamont.”
“Well, I know nothing about it,” declared Mr Spearman. “As a matter of fact, Rivington, I’ve given up all that stuff. I’m going straight now — ”
“I thought at least you’d be original, Tommy,” interrupted Paul reproachfully. “That’s what every little sneak-thief always says. It’s the first thing they learn at school.”
“I know you don’t believe me,” retorted Mr Spearman virtuously, “but there you are. If you can prove anything against me, you’re welcome. I say that with a clear conscience.”
“Well, we’ll see,” said Paul. “Have you any objection to us making a search of this suite?”
“Not if you’ve got a warrant — ” began Mr Spearman, and was interrupted by Captain Willing.
“I guess we’ve got that all right,” he said grimly.
“Then carry on,” said Mr Spearman with a graceful wave of his hand. “I hope you don’t mind if I smoke.”
Without waiting for permission he perched himself on the arm of an easy-chair. Paul and Willing began a systematic search. They turned out the wardrobe and went through all Mr Spearman’s luggage. They peered into every nook and cranny of the two rooms and bathroom which comprised the suite, and they found — nothing.
“Found anything?” asked Tommy Spearman blandly when they came back rather hot and dishevelled to the sitting room.
“Nothing,” said Paul Rivington sternly.
“I told you that you wouldn’t, you know,” said Mr Spearman. “If you’d listened to me you’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble — ”
“You haven’t deposited anything with the management, have you?” broke in the detective, frowning.
“No,” drawled Mr Spearman shaking his head.
“I’ll have to ask him,” said Paul.
“Ask him by all means, my dear fellow,” said the other. “I’ll ring the bell.”
He strolled lazily across the room and did so, and the manager, when he had been sent for, bore out this statement. Captain Chase had deposited nothing with the hotel.
“Satisfied?” enquired Mr Spearman when they were once more alone.
“No,” snapped Paul irritably. He had expected better results than this, and he was annoyed.
“Might I enquire,” said Mr Spearman interestedly, “what exactly did you expect to find?”
“I expected to find the negative of a film,” was the answer. “What have you done with it?”
Tommy Spearman’s expression was one of innocent surprise as he looked at his questioner.
“The negative of a film?” he repeated. “My dear fellow, what are you talking about? I know nothing about films.”
“Apparently,” answered Paul dryly. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to give you a clean bill for the time being, but I shouldn’t advise you to try and leave the city.”
“I’ve no intention of leaving it,” declared Mr Spearman. “It’s the most delightful place, and the air agrees with my constitution.”
He waited for an hour after they had gone, and then strolling out into the corridor he made his way to the service lift. It was only in use during morning and evening as he very well knew, and now it was out of sight. Pressing the button that set it in motion, he waited for it to appear, and presently it came slowly into view and stopped. Mr Spearman raised himself on tiptoe, and putting his hand into the space at the top of the gate, felt about on the roof of the lift. He withdrew, one at a time, seven round flat tin boxes, and tucking them under his arm, returned to his suite humming a tune.
Chapter 15
LEFTY GUINAN STRIKES
Mary Henley had a tiny room at the top of a tall apartment house in Culver City. It was really a bijou flat, for it contained a microscopic kitchenette and bathroom as well. These were more like large cupboards than separate rooms. She had great difficulty in finding the small rental that was demanded for this habitation, but had succeeded in doing so somehow. But how long she would be able to continue was a matter for a great deal of speculation.
Irene Claremont had a larger flat in the same building, and the two girls were in the habit of pooling their resources for catering, which made the food problem a little cheaper. They took it in turns to have meals with each other. One day Mary would go down to Irene’s flat and the next Irene would come up to hers. On the night following her meeting with Mr Spearman, Mary should have gone down to Irene, but when she got home she found a note waiting for her, saying that her friend had a bad headache and had gone to bed.
Mary was a little thankful. She felt that she would rather be alone. She was very worried, and she had a lot to think about, and although she quite liked Irene she was not terribly attached to her. Her slightly affected manner got on her nerves at times, and she felt that this would have been one of the times.
She made herself some tea and boiled some eggs — all that she could find in the small larder — and ate her meal a little wearily. She was desperately tired — not physically but mentally — but she knew that if she went to bed she would only lie awake for hours.
Dick’s attitude bewildered and hurt her. Ever since the murder of Lamont he had changed and done his best to avoid her, and now that he had been arrested he refused point-blank to see her. She couldn’t believe that he was really guilty of the crime, although he had admitted it. There must be some mistake somewhere, and yet perhaps he had killed Lamont after all. If he had, she felt to a great extent responsible, for it must have been on her account.
She finished her supper, washed up the dishes, and sat herself down in the single armchair her little apartment boasted. It was only nine o’clock, as she saw with dismay, when she glanced at her watch. Before she could go to bed with any hope of sleep she would have to fill in two hours at least. She picked up a book she had been reading, and was halfway through, and tried to forget her worries and concentrate on the story. But although she read diligently every word of two pages she found that they posses
sed no meaning for her, and at last she laid the book down and let her thoughts come crowding back as they would.
Perhaps Captain Chase could do something. He had promised that he would help her if he could. He had been terribly kind. He had arranged to take her to lunch tomorrow. Perhaps he would be able to suggest something then. If only Dick would see her. Why did he want to behave like this? Did he blame her for the position he was in? This was an aspect that had not occurred to her before, and she thought it out. Perhaps that was what it was. He had killed Lament because of her, and now he blamed her for it.
If that was the case, it was rather unfair. She kept on going over the same ground again and again until her head ached, and presently, although it was barely half past ten, she rose to go to bed. She felt tired enough, Heaven knew. Perhaps sleep would come if she tried to woo it.
She was just starting to undress when the telephone rang. She looked at the instrument and frowned. Who could be calling up at that hour? And then an idea occurred to her. Perhaps it was Captain Chase. She’d given him the number. She went quickly across to the instrument and lifted the receiver.
“Hello!” she called, and a strange voice answered her over the wire.
“Hello!” it said gruffly. “I’m speaking for Mr Spearman.”
“Mr Spearman? I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong number,” she said.
There was a moment’s pause, and then the voice went on:
“That’s Avenue 900, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I don’t know anybody called Mr Spearman,” said Mary.
This time there was a longer pause.
“I mean the gentleman you were with this morning,” said the voice at last.
“Oh, Captain Chase — yes?” she waited expectantly.
“That’s the guy, miss,” said the man at the other end of the wire. “I guess I made a mistake. I had two calls to make and I mixed up the names. Captain Chase says, could you meet him on Sunset Boulevard in half an hour?”
She thought quickly.
“What part of Sunset Boulevard?” she asked.
“Just walk slowly along towards Los Angeles,” said the stranger, “and Captain Chase will pick you up. He says it’s rather urgent.”
“All right — tell him I’ll be there,” she promised, and heard the click of the receiver as the man at the other end rang off.
Hurriedly she left the telephone and put on the few garments she had taken off when the call disturbed her. She would have to hurry, for it would take nearly half an hour to reach Sunset Boulevard. She wondered, while she made her preparations for departure, why he had chosen such an extraordinary meeting-place. Why hadn’t he fixed a definite place like the Brown Derby or his own hotel?
She came to the conclusion that for some reason or other he did not want their meeting to be public. This filled her with curiosity to know why, and occupied her mind with speculation as she walked towards the broad thoroughfare which is the pride of California. There were one or two cars speeding by on the well-kept road, but few people about, for at that hour most of the film colony were in bed and sleeping in preparation for the morrow’s work.
Mary walked slowly, keeping a sharp lookout for the tall, slim figure of Captain Chase. She had gone nearly a quarter of a mile when she saw a car coming slowly towards her. It was travelling close to the sidewalk, and as she came level with it, it stopped. It was a small car with the hood up, and as it came to a halt a man thrust his head out from the interior.
“You lookin’ for Captain Chase?” he asked in a loud whisper.
“Yes,” she began doubtfully. “Why — ”
“You get in beside me, Miss,” said the man in the car, “an’ I’ll take you to him.”
There was a click as he opened the door invitingly. She hesitated, some instinct — that animal instinct which is possessed by everyone, but which civilisation has nearly succeeded in smothering — warned her of danger.
“Be quick!” said the driver of the car impatiently. “Captain Chase is waiting and it’s very urgent.”
Mary thrust down her fears and approaching the car got in.
“Shut the door, will you?” said the man behind the wheel as she took her seat beside him. She complied, and then turned to ask a question.
“Where — ” she began and then a hand came up and gripped her throat and another was pressed over her nose and mouth. She struggled violently — tearing with her nails at the hands and wrists of her assailant. But he was wearing thick gloves and she made no impression.
The imprisoned breath in her lungs was making her head swim and she felt as though her forehead was bursting, and then mercifully blackness swamped her senses and she slumped forward in the seat unconscious.
*
A cold wind blowing on her face was the first sensation she experienced when she came slowly back to consciousness. The second was the dim murmur of voices.
She opened her eyes and stared up into the open sky. She could see a myriad of stars flecking the deep blue vault above, and found she was lying in some kind of long grass. She turned her head and tried to see more of the place where she was, but she could see nothing but a vague outline of bushes and the tall blades of grass that clustered thickly round her. The murmur of voices came again, but she could not hear what was being said. She tried to move, but found that this was impossible, because her hands and feet had been securely tied.
She felt rather frightened. She remembered getting into the car and the hand that had gripped her throat and choked her into insensibility — her throat was still sore from that merciless grasp — but why had it all happened? What was the object?
She was given very little time to wonder, for she heard the swish of feet coming through the grass, and presently saw the figures of two men loom above her.
“You take her head, and I’ll take her feet, Spike,” grunted the voice she had heard on the telephone.
They stooped and lifted her, and now that she was clear of the surrounding grass that had hedged her in, she could see the dim bulk of a house of some kind. Towards this her two captors carried her, stumbling over the rough ground. She was able to catch a glimpse of a broken window and a dilapidated veranda, and then they passed through a door and their footsteps rang on bare boards. The house, or whatever it was, was empty. She could tell that by the musty smell that came to her nostrils. They negotiated a passage, passed through another door, and laid her down roughly on a stone floor in a room that was lit by two candles stuck in their own grease on the mantelpiece.
She had as yet given no sign that her senses had come back to her, and now she still kept her eyes almost closed, taking stock of her surroundings through narrow slits veiled by her lashes.
“Well, that’s swell,” said the man who had spoken before. “I reckon it was a very neat bit of work.”
“What’s the next move?” asked the other man.
“I guess the next move is to ring up Spearman,” was the reply. “We’ll fix this dame up nice and comfy, and then I’ll go along and do that.”
He came over and stood looking down at her, and it was all she could do to suppress the shudder of fear that went through her as she saw his face — dark and cruel.
“She’s a good-looker; I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” said Lefty Guinan. “A swell baby! Spearman sure knows how to pick ’em.”
He turned away, and Mary, completely puzzled, wondered what he was talking about. Who was Spearman? She knew nobody of that name, and yet these men talked as if they were intimate. Had they made a mistake, and kidnapped her believing she was someone else? It didn’t seem likely, since they had got her right telephone number. The next words of the man who had brought her to this unpleasant place were even more puzzling.
“This will make him part,” he said, with a note of satisfaction in his voice. “I guess before morning we’ll have the money and the film.”
“I hope you’re right,” grunted his companion, and produced from his pocket a pa
cket of chewing-gum.
“Sure I’m right,” said the other confidently. “When we’ve got what we want out of him — ” his voice changed to a menacing snarl “ — then we’ll make him pay for all the trouble we’ve been put to.”
Mary Henley heard the cold ferocity in his tone and shuddered.
Chapter 16
MR SPEARMAN WALKS INTO A TRAP
“So, I shall be very glad, Captain — er — Chase, if you will make it convenient to leave tomorrow,” said the manager of the Beverley Wilshire suavely. “It is my duty to study my clients and — ”
“And you think that my presence will corrupt their morals,” said Spearman, lolling back in his chair perfectly at ease. “Well, probably it would do some of them good if I did. For a more dull and stodgy lot I’ve never come across!”
The urbane manager’s face expressed his horror at this sacrilege.
“People who stay here are very select,” he said stiffly.
“I’d like to know who selects them,” replied Tommy Spearman. “By the look of ’em I should think they’d select themselves! However, don’t worry. Although there’s nothing whatever against me, I will remove my undesirable presence in the morning.”
The manager looked relieved.
“I guess we’re very sorry, Captain Chase,” he said, “but I’m sure you understand. A visit from the police is liable to be misconstrued, even if there is no foundation for their suspicion — ”
An imp of mischief prompted Mr Spearman to try and shock this solid and self-complacent man.
“Their suspicions had a very solid foundation,” he said calmly. “I don’t mind telling you — now I’ve got to change my plans — that I had every intention of burgling the hotel tonight.”
“You — were going — to rob the hotel?” The manager almost swooned with horror at the suggestion. “You — you can’t be serious!”
The Con Man Page 9